Pauaho
by Elysynn
Summary: Danny remembers fighting for every breath. He learns it's no picnic watching from the other side, either. Set prior to S2 finale.


**Title:** Pauaho - _Breathless_

 **Summary:** Danny remembers fighting for every breath. He learns it's no picnic watching from the other side, either. Set prior to S2 finale.

 **Disclaimer:** Hawaii Five-0 belongs to CBS. I'm merely borrowing imaginary action figures to play with for awhile. I'll put them back when I'm done, and I promise not to make a profit off of them. Also, I am not a medical professional and am sure there are inaccuracies despite research completed.

 **Spoilers:** There is a specific reference to events in 1x23. There may be other (brief, blink and you'll miss 'em) references to 1x1, 1x9, 1x20, 1x24, 2x1, 2x10 and 2x16. If I missed any specifically, I apologize - really any episode through season 2 is fair game.

 **Author's Notes:** This little one-shot is based off a prompt from Kylen. Thank you, my friend for helping me stretch my wings and encouraging me to keep writing with little "assignments". I truly enjoy them and the ventures out of _left-brain-land_ that they provide me. The prompt given to me will follow the story…

* * *

 **Pauaho**

 _Present_

It was the last thing Danny expected to see in his partner. Panic, pure and primal, burned in Steve's eyes as wheezed in another breath. The man he thought feared nothing was now scared to death. No. Not to death, dammit, help was on the way.

Danny grasped Steve's scrabbling hand, clutched it tight making sure his partner could _feel_ he was there.

"Help's on the way, Steven. Just keep breathing, I know it's hard just don't give up on me, you hear? Grace won't forgive me if I don't make sure you're able to take her on that little snorkeling expedition you have planned this weekend."

Danny fought to keep his voice even; watching his partner's feet kick uselessly at the kitchen floor as he fought his body's betrayal. "Look at me, mister." Danny's command was rewarded by Steve's eyes locking onto his.

"Breathe in. Breathe out. Repeat. And just keep repeating. Seriously, getting bit by a Chihuahua wasn't dramatic enough for you? Had to make a bigger deal out of things?"

Relief washed through Danny as Steve replied with a ghosted smile and weakly lifted three fingers.

"Even flat on your back, gasping like a fish out of water, you have to correct me," Danny rolled his eyes and jibed.

His relief was short-lived when the SEAL squeezed painfully on his hand and drew in his most labored breath yet. He could feel his own panic rising at the alarming bluish tinge around McGarrett's lips. Dammit, help wasn't going to come soon enough.

 _Wheeze._

"C'mon, man, keep breathing for me. You know that if Grace hears I had to kiss you she's going to think you gave me cooties. She's still in the cootie stage." At least, he hoped to God that Grace was still in the cootie stage. She was growing up so fast… "All boys except me have cooties. And I'm really not in the mood to get cooties tonight, because I'd like to keep hanging out with my daughter."

Over the gut-wrenching sounds of his friend's attempts at breathing Danny thought he could hear the sirens.

"All she's been able to talk about the last few days is how you're going to show her where Nemo lives."

 _Wheeze._

Danny's heart began to race as Steve's grip began to loosen. Though his partner maintained eye-contact his lids were beginning to drift.

 _Wheeze._

"Don't you dare close your eyes, help will be here soon."

 _Wheeze._

"You've got to show her Dory. And Mr. Ray. But please for the love of all that is sacred do not introduce her to Bruce. She can see the sharks closely enough on Discovery channel."

Sadness began to intrude on the fear in Steve's eyes. Danny could see his partner was fighting with everything he had. But the breaths weren't as deep. And Steve's eyes weren't as focused. And the grip that could have broken his hand moments earlier was barely existent.

The sirens were louder.

The breathing was softer.

"Help's almost here," Danny assured softly, resisting every urge to shout and scream at his dying friend. "Just hang on for a little while longer and you won't have to fight so hard."

Steve closed his eyes. And for a frightening second, Danny thought that was it. Then he heard the air whistle through ever-shrinking airways. He leaned in closer, just to keep listening. He concentrated on Steve's furrowed brow, the only indication that his partner was still fighting and not succumbed to unconsciousness.

Silence fell thickly as the loud wail of the siren cut out abruptly.

Danny listened.

Watched.

Nothing.

Panic finally overwhelmed Danny and he yelled loud enough to wake the neighbors three doors down, "In here! Hurry! He's not breathing!"

The front door opened loudly as the detective positioned Steve for rescue breathing.

"Kitchen! We're in the kitchen, he just stopped breathing…"

"How long?" the paramedic asked, kneeling beside the still form of the Five-O leader.

"Not long, not even a minute…seconds…" Danny's hands were starting to shake, but he kept his grip on his partner. "Please, you gotta do something. He just… just _stopped_. Christ, it was just a damned antibiotic… and he just…"

"We'll do everything we can, but I need you to back away so we can work." The young man looked at Danny intensely. "Allergic reaction?" he asked, confirming the information from dispatch.

The detective nodded and allowed himself to be pushed back where he leaned against Steve's refrigerator. He glanced at the broken beer bottle on the floor. His eyes drifted to the clock on the wall; not fifteen minutes had passed since Steve had pulled that beer from the fridge and cracked it open.

Twenty minutes ago, they had been joking about Steve's latest adventure to the clinic to get patched up _again_ while the SEAL threw back the first pill of his latest prescription. Fifteen minutes ago, Danny had snarked that Steve should buy stock in the pharmaceutical company that provided all his antibiotics – at least he'd get some of his money back. Steve was handing Danny the beer when the reaction started and the bottle fell from his fingers.

Danny's ears started working again. In the few seconds he had tuned out the paramedics had bagged Steve and started an IV.

"Carson, Epinephrine is pushed…" the paramedic with the nametag D. Anders announced.

"BP is low, pulse is rapid and thready. Oxygen sat is at 88 percent."

"If he doesn't start breathing on his own…"

Danny's ears tuned out again. He didn't want to contemplate what would happen if Steve didn't start breathing on his own. He wiped his hand over his mouth, memories of the crushing panic that came along with being unable to draw a breath rearing their head. Had Steve felt so useless when Danny had sat fighting for breath after Sarin had poisoned his body?

He watched the men work over his partner, put him on the gurney. His ears still buzzing, Danny slowly started to rise to his feet.

"I'm coming along." He surprised himself with the steadiness and authority in his voice.

"We expected you to, sir," the man tagged Anders assured patiently.

Danny snagged the bottle off the counter and contemplated its label as he followed the procession out the door. Maybe the hospital would need it, want to check the pills. As he hurried down the pathway to the waiting ambulance he muttered not for the first time today, "Stupid damn Chihuahuas."

* * *

 _Six Hours Earlier_

"Explain to me _again_ why we are sitting here on this bench that is _the_ most non-ergonomic creation known to man in the blazing sun watching people jog by?" Danny emphasized his displeasure by broadly gesturing at the scene before them.

Steve leaned back, crossed his arms over his chest and quirked a smile as a particularly statuesque Hawaiian woman jogged by. "Are you telling me you're not enjoying the scenery, D?"

Danny followed the retreating form of the jogger before returning his sights to his partner. "No. Where did I say anything about the scenery? Seriously, Steven, you need to get your ears checked. I am _telling_ you this bench sucks and it is freaking hot, and we could do our surveillance just as easily from the air-conditioned _surveillance_ van."

"Wanna keep your voice down over there? We're not exactly undercover but there's no reason to advertise to the entire park why we're here."

"I am keeping my voice down." Danny muttered in reply. He knew by Steve's expression that he really wasn't talking too loud. He recognized Steve's comment for what it was – an instruction to shut up. He followed his partner's line of sight to see what the SEAL had locked on to.

There it was. Down the jogging path he could see Hideo Tanaka, their college-aged informant being swept for a wire by the suspect – known only by the eye-roll worthy moniker " _Phantom"_. They had been trying to track down this man for the last three weeks. He heard Steve issue quiet instructions to Chin and Kono to be ready. Hideo was to hand over a USB drive containing a list of dummy marks for the suspect – marks targeted for identity theft.

Danny felt his stomach sink about the same time he sensed his partner tensing next to him. _Phantom's_ demeanor had changed. He was agitated and Danny knew instinctually Hideo had somehow been made.

Both men were up and running just as _Phantom_ drew a knife and slashed at their informant. Suddenly chaos erupted around Hideo and _Phantom_. Screams from park visitors fanned out like the Wave at a ballpark. _Phantom_ took off down the jogging path.

Steve split from Danny over the wooded hill to cut the suspect off down the trail. Danny stayed on the path to continue pursuit should _Phantom_ decide to change directions.

"He's headed my direction," Kono announced over the radio.

"Hideo's OK, just a graze to his ribs." Chin's voice assured the team.

Danny rounded the bend on the path. Just in time to see his partner sail off the retaining wall into the fleeing _Phantom_. Both men landed in a heap in front of an occupied park bench, seating a resting dog-walker with six frightened and angry Chihuahuas.

"Sonofa-!" he heard his partner shout out as two of the little dogs tried to take his partner's hand off at the wrist. "Five-O! Back! Get them back!" Steve shouted.

One of the dogs yelped as _Phantom_ kicked out at the dog that bit his ankle. The middle-aged woman scolded the men as she pulled the dogs back out of range her words lost in the snarling and yapping. One last angry canine sunk its teeth into Steve's flesh as it retreated.

Danny and Kono approached just as Steve was burying his knee in their suspect's lower back. Steve efficiently, but none-too-gently cuffed the man. Kono stepped over to the angry dog-walker, working her magic to calm both the woman and the agitated pack of Chihuahuas.

Steve stood, blood running from several puncture wounds on his left wrist and hand. Danny nearly rolled his eyes at the smirk his partner was wearing. He knew the words that were coming next.

The detective leaned down to bring their quarry to his feet. "Don't even, Steven," he quipped as he started leading _Phantom_ away. He called over his shoulder, "Next time you decide to channel your inner Rocky the Flying Squirrel, might I suggest making sure your landing zone is clear?"

* * *

 _Present_

The doors to the bus barely slammed shut when the driver accelerated away from the curb. A small part of Danny's brain appreciated the practiced ease the paramedic took the sudden movement; the man barely swayed while continuing to try to stabilize Steve.

As the older paramedic manually pumped air into McGarrett, a hundred nightmare scenarios whizzed through the former Jersey detective's mind. He'd imagined so many different ways he might see the Commander requiring such care. Bullets and knives were par for the course in law enforcement, but McGarrett brought along a whole new set of threats to be concerned about. Who knew when he'd misjudge the next flying tackle and get hit by a car or fall off another cliff? He never really expected the mundane.

McGarrett had certainly required his share of medical attention in the short time Danny had known him. But never had he needed help to breathe, and that was the most terrifying. He'd always been able to breathe under his own power. He might have been bleeding, in pain or unconscious, but he'd always been able to breathe. And that more than anything drove home that his Super-SEAL partner was indeed human.

Danny's heart raced as the ambulance sped down the streets. He kept rolling the offending amoxicillin bottle over and over in his fingers as he watched the paramedic continue to work on his partner.

"Anders, I just gave him another dose of epi, but his sats are down to 83 percent, we may have no choice but to intubate if it doesn't kick in soon." Carson stated as he gave the bag another squeeze.

Danny stared at the oxygen line attached to the ambu-bag.

"Why aren't you intubating now?" Danny asked before he knew the words were out of his mouth.

Carson shook his head and paused a moment until Anders was done with the latest blast of the horn, "It's a balancing game. Intubation comes with its own risk, particularly with swollen airways," he patiently explained while his eyes never left his work.

"For now, you can see the air is making its way into his lungs so he's not completely blocked. But if we try to intubate, there's a high risk we could damage his throat. If we can't get the tube through, then we have to put a hole here," he pointed to a spot on Steve's throat, "which is also not without risk," he concluded.

Danny raked his free hand through his hair. After what felt like an hour, Steve jerked his head away from the ambu-bag. To his dismay, the paramedic pulled the mask away from Steve's face. That's when he registered Steve's chest rising and falling on its own. Slowly. Shallowly. But he was breathing under his own power.

"Let's get this oxygen mask on you, see if we can't get those sats back up," Carson quietly encouraged his patient.

* * *

 _Four Hours Earlier_

"So, how long are you gonna let him sit thinking he's got rabies?" Danny asked from the chair across from Steve's desk, eyeing the prescription bag his partner dropped on a stack of paperwork.

"Is he cowering from his water bottle yet?" Steve asked with a smirk, referring to one of the infection's more sensationalized symptoms.

"No, but our little hypochondriac did complain that he thought he was starting to foam at the mouth about a half-hour ago."

Steve snickered and scratched at the tape holding the gauze on his left wrist in place. "Let's give him another half-hour and see if he develops hydrophobia."

"You're a cruel man, McGarrett." Danny pointed to the white bag, "Anti-Lycanthrope treatment?"

Steve snorted and waved a dismissive hand at the item of interest, "Just some antibiotics for precaution. Even though their teeth were small, there were a couple deep punctures. Remind me to never piss off a Chihuahua again."

"I think you need to avoid canines in general. They don't seem to like you much even when you're _not_ trying to use them as a landing pad." Danny observed.

The SEAL tipped his head in agreement. "All right. What have we got on this guy so far?"

Danny relayed the information they had discovered since Steve had left for the clinic. Once they had their suspect's fingerprints, they were able to pull up his record and discover his real name. One 23 year-old Aloysius Quinn Cooper had been arrested for a string of identity theft related crimes in the San Francisco area. He had managed to skate by on probation with the one charge that had stuck and then completely dropped off the radar for two years. His expertise was in stealing the identities of newly naturalized citizens. Indications had been _Phantom_ was working with a larger group; that he was a cog in a machine of something much larger. And it didn't appear they were going to get much time with _Phantom_ due to an outstanding warrant for probation violation in the State of California.

"Hey, Boss?" Kono poked her head into the office with a little smirk, "I think he might be getting ready to talk. He's complaining about his parched throat and won't go near the water bottle."

"You got those lab papers?" Danny asked as Steve stood.

"Yep," Steve pulled the tri-folded papers out of his back pocket. Max had put together some documents validating the Chihuahuas were rabies-free. It was all for show; there had been no need to test the dogs because the vet had been able to provide proof of vaccination.

"Duuuuude! I'm gonna _die_!" Cooper wailed when they opened the door. "I'm so thirsty!"

Steve tossed a water bottle to the suspect, "So have a drink of water."

Cooper caught it out of reflex then dropped it like it was on fire. "Are you _trying_ to kill me?"

Danny rolled his eyes, "Look, we'll give you the relief you need as soon as you tell us who you're working for."

Crazed brown eyes met his, "I don't work for nobody!"

"Want to try that again?" Steve countered. "Is your skin starting to prickle?"

Cooper stared at the Commander. Danny shook his head at Steve when the suspect began scratching absently at his arm. The younger man frowned. "He'll kill me," he whispered.

Steve merely cocked his head to the side and waited.

"You'll really get me cured?" Cooper sniffed.

If the information they were trying to get hadn't been so important, the pathetic performance in front of them would have made them smile.

Instead, Steve brought himself to eye-level with Cooper and promised with a grim, straight face, "I can guarantee, you tell us what we need to know, and this all goes away."

 _Phantom_ scratched at his other arm, "Travis Liu. I work for Travis Liu. Now get me to a doctor!"

Steve handed the papers over to Danny. "You want to tell him?"

"Sure, why not?"

"What?" Cooper whipped his head back and forth between the partners, "Tell me what?"

"You sir, do not have rabies," Danny announced as he dropped the papers in Cooper's lap. "Your symptoms are one-hundred percent psychosomatic. And if you _knew_ anything about rabies, you'd know that symptoms can take _days_ if not longer to appear. Not less than an hour. Would you like that drink of water now?"

At Cooper's silent glare, Danny threw his hands up in supplication. "Okay, we'll let you think about that a bit while we go check out the name you gave us."

Danny followed Steve out of the interrogation room, and made it halfway back to their offices before he started snickering.

Steve cracked a smile. "How long do you give him before he opens the water bottle," he asked.

"An hour," Danny nodded.

"Really? You give him that long? I give him fifteen minutes."

"Want to bet a Longboard on that?"

"You're on, D."

* * *

 _Present_

The morning sun peeked through the gaps in the vertical blinds as slats swayed lazily from the ventilation unit running beneath. The occasional clack was the only sound in the room, save for their own breathing. The light caught Danny's eye as he shifted his position, evoking the memory of the kitchen light glinting off shards of broken glass. Danny thought back to the moment when Steve recognized something was very, very wrong. The look of confusion on his face, the way he had scratched at his chest, his gasp of pain as he dropped the beer bottle and wrapped his arm around his stomach… Danny couldn't wipe the sequence from his memory.

His first thought was irrationally, that Steve had been poisoned. Because who, other than his partner could attract that kind of trouble? He had certainly made enough enemies with the various factions of organized crime and drug cartels on the Island. But, as Danny had helped Steve to the floor his rational mind caught up and recognized the signs of anaphylactic shock. He recalled Rachel's account of little Jaime Conners from Grace's pre-school class succumbing to a peanut allergy during their school's Halloween party. His heart pounded with dread when he made the 911 call.

Now, not quite a dozen hours later his stabilized partner slept restlessly in the hospital bed. Danny's heart finally stopped pounding when the bi-pap had come off two hours ago once the doctor was satisfied Steve's breathing was under control. The doctor had assured Danny then the Commander would make a full recovery and might be able to be home in a day or two.

The detective pulled the container of antibiotics out of his pocket and inspected the innocuous amber plastic again. The hospital pharmacy had been able to confirm that the pills in the bottle were in fact the antibiotic prescribed, but the hospital wasn't equipped to do any additional testing. Danny knew without a doubt that it was the antibiotic that had caused the reaction, but he was still considering running the medication over to Fong for more forensic analysis. Too many years on the job wouldn't allow him to rule out something more sinister, unlikely though it may be. He shook the container, contents rattling in the silence of the room before pocketing them once again.

When he looked up he was startled to meet a bleary, hazel-eyed gaze. Danny moved closer to the bed, "Hey," he said softly. It was a rare moment that he found himself unable to articulate the thoughts in his head. The rush of relief and gratitude that his partner was alive and awake surged through him. If Steve called him on it later, he'd chalk it up to consideration for his friend's well being.

A slow blink was the response he received. As it turned out, he needn't have worried about his lapse in verbosity as Steve's eyes drifted shut again and Danny was confident that the SEAL wouldn't remember the seconds-long exchange.

Some hours later he was roused from a light sleep by Steve's rough, quiet voice.

"D? W' happened? You OK? Is everyone OK?"

"Me? What? Yeah I'm OK," Danny replied with confusion before his mind caught up to him. Of course Steve would think something had happened to the team, it wouldn't cross his mind that something off the job would put him in the hospital.

He put a comforting hand on Steve's wrist. "We're all fine. Nothing happened to the team. Now you, on the other hand," Danny sighed dramatically, "You, my friend are never going to take antibiotics without supervision again for the rest of your life."

The bedridden Commander looked at the Jersey detective like he'd grown a third arm. "Wha?" he closed his eyes, furrowed brow the only indication he hadn't gone back to sleep. He frowned, "I dropped th' beer…"

Danny couldn't help it. He laughed. "Yeah, man you dropped the beer. Sometimes I question your priorities."

He caught Steve looking around the room, eyes searching for something. He followed his partner's gaze and settled on the water, just out of reach.

"I can imagine your throat's a little raw, what with being all swollen shut and everything," he remarked as he maneuvered around to retrieve the water.

"You went into anaphylactic shock, Steven," he informed as he helped the SEAL take a few sips. "Those pills nearly killed you."

McGarrett's eyes darkened as memories of the previous night returned. Then he raised perplexed eyes to Danny, "Don' understand," he swallowed, "taken th' same ones before…"

"It's rare, but spontaneous allergic reactions do occur," a female voice interjected. In their conversation, the two men hadn't heard the doctor enter the room. "Dr. Lin, Commander," she smiled in introduction. "You were very fortunate your friend was with you. "

Danny excused himself from the room while the doctor met with Steve. He didn't need any more reminders of just how fortunate Steve had been. He took the time to contact the rest of the team, Rachel and Grace and update them on how Steve was doing. A growling stomach insisted that he find something to eat before going back to the room.

He returned with soft-serve ice cream. McGarrett had raised the head of the bed a little higher and was paging through some documents on his tray. Danny peered down at the papers as he handed over the frozen treat.

"A little light reading?"

"Just want to understand what happened," replied in a much clearer tone than when Danny last heard him spoke. It was still a bit rough, but definitely more Steve. McGarrett smiled gratefully at Danny as he picked up the spoon and ice cream and turned the page.

Someone had printed out articles about anaphylaxis and other related information about Steve's diagnosis. It was moments like this where Steve's drive to know, understand and analyze shone forth that reminded Danny that Steve had not only been a SEAL but an intelligence officer in the Navy. They consumed the ice cream in companionable silence until Steve put down the spoon and pushed the papers away with a mighty yawn.

Danny thought for a moment that his partner was going to drift off to sleep as he settled more comfortably in the bed.

Steve dispelled that notion a minute later when he spoke, "Thanks, man. You kept me grounded last night…"

"You're welcome," Danny replied with his usual candor. He paused and his voice took on a more serious quality, "You know, I can't say which is worse… not being able to breathe or being able to do absolutely nothing when you're watching your partner struggle for breath."

"Yeah," Steve said quietly and the silence stretched out as they both contemplated anaphylaxis and nerve gas.

Abruptly, Steve changed the subject.

"You know, Grace does know that Nemo is a clown fish. And that Dory is a regal tang."

Immediately the mood in the room changed.

"Really? I'll remember that the next time you're dying, I have to keep the proper taxonomy of marine wildlife in order. Because, here I was thinking that keeping you focused on something other than your imminent demise was more important that the fauna classification of _DISNEY CHARACTERS_."

Steve cracked a smile, "I only mentioned it so you didn't embarrass yourself when you talked to her about the snorkeling. According to her, no-one over the age of 7 calls clown fish "Nemo" anymore. She also knows there are no clown fish in Hawaii." Steve paused a moment before continuing, " And she's aware CPR isn't "kissing". You have a very smart daughter."

Danny glared.

"You can thank me later," Steve quipped as he closed his eyes.

"For what?" Danny replied incredulously.

"For protecting your dignity."

"Seriously, out of all that you remember the fish?"

"Well, that and you were gonna give me cooties." Steve mumbled as he shifted in the bed.

Danny stared at his partner blankly for a moment, marveling at his partner's selective memory. "What? Cooties! No. You were going to give _me_ cooties, you Neanderthal. I am one-hundred percent cootie-free."

Danny looked at his partner's closed eyes, the brief flare of panic induced by Steve's stillness was quelled by the steady rhythm displayed on the heart monitor and the deep, even breathing. He couldn't help but smile that the man had fallen asleep mid-argument. He kicked back in the chair, settling in for the duration. By morning he would be fully prepared to have Grace help defend his own dignity, _thankyouverymuch_ , by explaining to her Uncle Steve just who did and _did not_ have cooties.

* * *

 **Author's Notes pt. 2:** The prompt given was as follows: _I want you to take a flip of a common situation in the H 5-O fanfic. I want Steve with some sort of serious problem - and Danny trying to keep him calm and breathing. I'd prefer to have it Steve being sick or an allergic reaction and not shot or stabbed_.

The bulk of this story was written about three years ago… I just recently dusted it off to get back into the swing of things by finishing it. Thanks again to Kylen for providing the writing impetus.


End file.
